


The Road to Hell

by archaeologist_d



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/pseuds/archaeologist_d
Summary: He thought he was doing the right thing but the road to hell is paved with good intentions.





	The Road to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Morgana tries to kill Uther in the episode, The Crystal Cave. Definitely AU. Major character death but not Merlin or Arthur.

The crystals were shrieking at him, vibrating with unease in his hands, pushing visions into his head even with his eyes shut tight.  Shards, sharp and pure, littering the walls of the cave, scattered among the debris at his feet, a few clutched in his bloody hands, would not let him go, kept insisting that he pay attention, that he _do_ something.

But the images revealed with all their impossible clarity only reminded him of a future that was no longer possible. All his dreams were lost, his destiny in shreds.

Arthur, Arthur would never forgive him, would never believe him. Would kill him on sight.

And that was the worst thing of all, the thing that cut the deepest in all its bitter irony, is that Merlin had tried to do the right thing and it had only ended in disaster.

* * *

It started with Taliesen and the damnable Crystal Cave. Merlin knew he shouldn’t gaze into the crystals, should have kept his eyes averted, backed out of the cave as soon as Taliesen told him where he was. But, of course, his heart, traitor, pushed him to look, to gather knowledge enough to protect Arthur. And when the crystals gave him tantalizing glimpses of the future, he couldn’t look away. The images seared into him, into his very soul, and he knew that somehow he had to act, to prevent what the crystals had shown him.

But the foreknowledge wasn’t enough, instead it led him down the dark path to destruction. In trying to prevent Uther’s assassination, after Merlin pushed Morgana down the stairs and then, remorseful, guilty, cured her again, the fates began to spin out of control. In that moment, Merlin learned of her heritage, learned that she was a princess of the blood royal and an heir to the throne after Arthur. In that moment, Morgana, too, must have overheard Uther telling Gaius of her parentage.

Merlin would have thought that she’d be overjoyed to finally gain some standing in the court that she’d never had before, to secure a place among the Pendragon dynasty. But something must have gone amiss. Uther didn’t announce anything other than her recovery, and with that meaningless acknowledgment, Morgana seemed to grow darker, more furious with every passing moment. Lightning waiting to strike.

The storm finally broke when Merlin saw the body of the servant, the man’s hand dripping with spilled wine, just as he’d seen in the crystals. Merlin knew that he’d not prevented what he’d seen before, had only postponed the moment. But racing to Morgana’s chambers hadn’t worked. Instead, he’d been knocked unconscious, and when he awoke, it was too late. She’d gone.

He arrived at Uther’s chambers in time to see Morgana plunge the dagger into Uther’s chest, heard the final gurgle of a dying man and her triumphant laughter.

Shouting for her to stop, Merlin rushed in, hoping to fix whatever she’d done, hoping it wasn’t too late after all. Turning toward Merlin, her knife dripping heart’s blood, she seemed an avenging goddess, Fury Ascendant. Her face changed then, manic, calculating, and with a smile, dropped the knife onto Uther’s still chest.

It didn’t make sense. She didn’t attack Merlin, just backed up, one hand coming up to cover her mouth as if horrified by what she had done. 

It didn’t matter. Merlin only had seconds to try and fix it. He pushed past her. He shoved the knife aside, blood soaking into his hands, coating his fingertips in damp red, spilling onto his tunic. But he ignored it all, trying to focus as he opened Uther’s nightshirt, trying to see just how bad it was, worrying about whether he could use magic in front of her or if it was useless to try.

In his frantic concern, he’d not heard the clang of chainmail ringing down the hallway nor the stomp of feet, but Morgana must have.

Crying out, loud and strident, she shouted, “Guards, help, help! Merlin’s killed the king!”

Merlin didn’t even have time to protest. Arms grabbed from behind, the guards shook him roughly as they dragged him back, away from Uther’s cooling body. One man punched him when he opened his mouth to speak, and there was pain shooting across his cheek. He slipped down, legs giving out, and knelt there, too stunned by the turn of events to do anything but gape up at Morgana’s triumphant smirk.

It was then that Arthur ran into the room, ignoring all except his father. As he stumbled toward the bed, he reached out, then shook Uther a little, and let go when he realized that he was too late. There was devastation in his eyes as he looked first at Morgana, and then at Merlin.

But before Merlin could say anything, Morgana grabbed onto Arthur’s sleeve. “Merlin killed him. I saw it. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop him. I knew he didn’t like Uther but I never thought he’d… this is beyond… oh Arthur.” And then she burst into tears.

In a small part of his brain, he had to admire Morgana’s acting skills. She sounded both terrified and furious as she sobbed into Arthur’s chest. But there was a kind of numbness spreading in Merlin as he realized that Arthur would never believe Merlin over Morgana. She’s set the perfect trap for him, that her revenge for Merlin poisoning her was nearly complete. It would only take one sword thrust and everything would be gone.

But the strike didn’t come. Arthur’s voice was cold as ice. “Get up, you scum. Get up before I execute you here and now.”

“Arthur, Arthur, please, it’s not what you think. She….” Merlin stopped. He had to say something, but it was already too late. He could see the hatred growing in Arthur’s eyes.

“I should strike you down where you stand.” Arthur’s hand was on his sword, knuckles white, and his face was a grim mask.

Half-in disbelief, Merlin said, “I didn’t do it.  I swear….”

Eyes narrowed, as furious as Merlin had ever seen him, Arthur spat out, “Are you calling the Lady Morgana a liar? As you stand here soaked in my father’s blood, do you really expect me to believe you over her?”

“She was…,” Merlin gulped. From his vantage point, he could see the smug satisfaction on Morgana’s face. “She was mistaken. I was trying to stop the bleeding before it was too late.”

Morgana said, cold and sure, “I saw him plunge the dagger into Uther’s chest. He was laughing as he did so.” Her voice turned softer, melancholy. “Oh, Arthur, we believed him. All this time.”

With every word, Merlin was growing more fearful. Lies upon lies and each one another stone upon his grave.  “Arthur, please, I wasn’t. I would never….”

Arthur turned on him, nodding to the guards. “Take him away. Put him in the deepest, darkest cell we have. A proper place for assassins.” Hard as stone, Arthur said, “I will deal with him in the morning. He is to have neither food nor drink. No contact, no comfort of any kind. Not for traitors.”

 “Arthur, I would never betray you. I couldn’t. You are everything…” But Arthur wasn’t listening, was staring down at his father’s dead body. In desperation, Merlin said, “You dollophead, listen to me.”

But Arthur said nothing at all.

* * *

The guards were not gentle as they dragged him down to the dungeons, fists and vicious kicks bruising his skin. As they shoved him into the cell, he could see it was little more than an oubliette, a hole in the stone walls so small that Merlin could only stand there. There was not enough space to sit and certainly no way to lie down. Fetid, too, the cesspit next to it, and rotting food had been tossed in for good measure. The walls were dank, a dark, mouldy riverlet seeping down one side. And it was almost black when the door closed on him.

Merlin was not one for small spaces, but this was the traitor’s pit, and the very thought that Arthur would never forgive him drove him further into despair. He was trying to catch his breath, trying not to cry, trying to figure out a way to fix it all. That more than anything, was sending dread down his spine.

He couldn’t leave. Escape would only mean guilt in Arthur’s eyes.

But if Morgana could continue to spill bile into Arthur’s ear, Merlin wasn’t sure anything would sway Arthur to see her for what she was.

He should have listened to the dragon. He should have let Morgana die.

* * *

Exhausted from trying to figure out what to do next, he dozed a little. But sometime in the middle of the night, he heard a soft scratching at the door, and when it opened, Gaius was there.

Merlin was worried, though. With the way Arthur was acting, he might take out his anger on the old man. But before Merlin could tell him to leave, Gaius said, “Arthur won’t listen to reason. He won’t listen to anyone but Morgana.”

Merlin nodded. He hadn’t expected anything else. Apparently, neither had Gaius. Shoving a small wrapped pack of what smelled like food, Gauis said, “You have to leave. Now, before morning. They are already building the scaffold and I fear the worst.”

Shaking his head, Merlin said, “He’ll think it’s true if I do. I can’t… he’ll hate me.”

“If you are executed, it won’t matter what he thinks. Merlin, you have to leave before it’s too late.” Gaius was adamant, looking at Merlin with desperation in his eyes. “My boy, I don’t want to lose you as I’ve lost so many others. When Morgana shows her hand, Arthur will know the truth. Maybe then he’ll understand that she’s been lying to him all this time. Maybe a chance for you to show him the truth. But you have to survive first.”

Merlin wanted to sob, to wash it all away and start afresh, but Gaius was right. Arthur might believe him a traitor now, but Morgana wouldn’t let it go, would try and take the throne, and when she did, Merlin had to be there to help Arthur survive long enough to fulfil his destiny. For Camelot, for Albion, for Arthur.

Nodding, he took the packet from Gaius. Merlin said, “You need to go back and appear to be innocent. When I leave, the first person he’ll assume helped me was you. I couldn’t bear it if you were punished because of my mistakes.”

“I will. And Merlin, don’t go home to Ealdor. That’s the first place they’ll look.” Gaius reached up, gave Merlin a little shake. “I’ll write your mother when things have settled down, so that she won’t worry.”

Merlin leaned forward, folding Gaius in a tight hug and then letting him go. “I’ll contact you when I can. Thank you for everything.”

 “My boy, you’ve brought me joy. I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.”  And with that, Gaius turned and hurried up the corridor.

* * *

To hear the hounds on his trail, to know that Arthur was hunting him with fury and an undeniable thirst for vengeance, to realize that Arthur would kill him if he found him, drove Merlin on.

It took days to lose them. But at last, he stumbled back into the Crystal Cave, and settled down among the shards of quartz and horror.

It was only then that he gave into despair, let his mind grow horrified with what had happened, sobbing out his grief in the days that followed. He grew lean and quiet and quite mad. The crystals didn’t help, kept sending him visions of what could have been, driving him further into insanity, until he could barely think of himself as human any more.

Bloody and broken and despairing, it was only months later that he finally came back to himself.  

The crystals were still insistent as they had been all along, howling at him to do something, showing him scenes that would have normally urged him into action. But Merlin was numb and cold and so very thin. He hadn’t cared for himself since he’d left Camelot, had thought more of death than life because there was no life among the stones. He’d left the only life he’d wanted behind and there was nothing to go back to.  

So unfeeling, unhurried, he glanced down at the crystal in his hand. There was knowledge there, and for the first time in an eternity, Merlin was faintly curious, although still indifferent to the world beyond the cave.

Arthur was there, in the crystal, guards holding him down so that he was forced to bow before a crowned Morgana. Merlin could see the fury and frustration on Arthur’s face, could see it morph into astonishment and then horror while she sat there, laughing at him. There were no words but Merlin knew what she was gloating about. It was as clear as the crystal he was holding and the horror on Arthur’s face. Triumphant and smug, she told Arthur that she was Uther’s daughter, that she’d killed her father and blamed Merlin for it knowing that Merlin was innocent. That she’d reveled in Arthur’s guilty reaction to it all. That she’d execute Arthur soon enough, paying, at last, for all the slights she’d had to endure.

Merlin woke up then, began to hurt for the first time in a very long time. He looked down to see his hand bleeding, grasping the crystal so tightly that he’d shattered it. But he’d learned a few things in the months alone. it only took a moment to heal the cuts, to shake off the lethargy and the despair.

Arthur needed him. His destiny needed him. And if it all had taken a turn unexpected, then so be it.

It was time to rejoin the living and embrace his future, to be at Arthur’s side.

As it was always meant to be.

 

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
